


attachment

by Limonium



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, i like fluff but sometimes my hand slips and i realize there's a bit of drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 08:27:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18616891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Limonium/pseuds/Limonium
Summary: Harry's duty as a forest guardian apprentice is to do a blood ritual every month, a routine conducted on all towers of Hogwarts. Tom knew he is injured and comes to check on him.





	attachment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Luxis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luxis/gifts), [lory_27](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lory_27/gifts), [Wiegenlied](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wiegenlied/gifts), [oneoftheoddones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneoftheoddones/gifts).



> a meager offering for the lovely and too kind folks who are very supportive all the time 😭😭
> 
> also wabbit, this is for you too

On nights like this, Harry lingers in one of the numerous unused and undisturbed towers in Hogwarts. Even before the time he received the map from Fred and George; even when he got lost in the hallways one-too-many consecutive times, Harry only felt a sense of peace.  
  
His mind was empty, free of terror, free from his daily worries.  
  
He walks along a stone path that crosses the northern courtyard, flowers currently and continuously in bloom, the grass greener after he had arrived.  
  
It was a night his magic often wishes to be let out, to return something back to the land, to give thanks to everything that had and has been keeping him alive. It was his duty.  
  
With sure and soft steps, his bare feet glides in memory towards the northern tower. It was impressive in height, his legs now stronger from mere diligence of climbing up the spiraling steps every month, the view outside the glass windows a comfort from long years of being trapped in the dark.

  
  
_There was something heavy over his head, his shoulders, his arms. He feels it crawl, steadily, from the uncontrollable dark in his head and slowly undulating, drowning his heart._

_His fingers grapple on the stone floor, hands splayed wide, searching for an opening, shaking and begging for even a tiny sliver of light. Harry only needs a corner or a wall, something to ground himself, lest he be taken whole by the void._

He shakes his head from such gloomy thoughts.

There was a faint rustling sound on his side and Harry is broken from his momentary trance, eyes catching a wing and a tail of a snowy owl from the window.

A smile breaks out on his face, his eyes brimming with joy and slightly luminescent in the dim shadows from the candle lanterns ahead.

In his haste to reach the top, as always, he lets go and his magic agrees with him.

Harry hurriedly climbs up, his fingers too warm, his magic tingling and his heart beating with his every step. He doesn’t notice the walls thickening with moss, the tiny specks of flowers bursting in dusty crevices, and the vines moving and wrapping along the rails behind him.

The door is and was ever a sight to behold. Hogwarts appears to have been so taken with him, that the tower doors come with a surprise every time he comes up to do his rituals. Tonight, the usual single door has morphed into animal faces.

On the right was of a stag, the horns adorned with white heather, the wood carved in smooth and careful lines. It curves upward, a crown of wood and flora, a call towards Harry’s former familiar. He reaches out, and taps the stag nose with a laugh. On the left, a thestral head was turned to him. Its obsidian shade mimicking that of the marble walls of the Chamber of Secrets, one of his favorite places in the castle. Harry taps its nose too.

The double doors then open for him, the lanterns muted burning flaring into life. Hedwig was perched on the far end of the room where the old and almost rotting stump of an elderberry is still taking much space as a makeshift bench. Now and then, specially after Harry conducts his rituals, it would sprout leaves and thin branches for harvest.

Harry approaches her, the owl turning its bright blue eyes to him. She flaps her wings once, and flies to land on Harry’s shoulder.

His bond to his familiar, his closest friend, pulls a vision of his adventures back in the forbidden forest.

 

_A trail of will o’ wisps and fireflies._

_His little corner of happiness, underneath a bough filled with chestnuts to lure squirrels for a good amount of tummy rubs._

_The old dragon who calls himself Eon, for the mere reason he has been living longer than Harry._

_The boy, frozen in time, who has given him something akin to friendship was absently watching Hedwig groom herself._

 

From the dark end of the room, where the shadows move in sync with the candlelight, Tom emerges with a huge snake draped on his shoulders. He was watching him, red eyes trained on his right arm.

“I didn’t expect you to come tonight,” Tom says as he leans down and lets Nagini gently slide off onto the floor. Hedwig, seeing her friend come up to languid on the elderberry flies off and perches herself on a branch once more.

Tom’s tentative touch on his arm was expected, gauging how much it has healed for the last few weeks.

Harry watches Tom; from his long lashes, to his curled fringe, to the prominent jut of his cheekbones and pale skin. He follows Tom’s fingers as he slowly moves his sleeves up, revealing the purpling veins traveling in twisting lines that come out from his bandaged upper arm. Harry breathes cautiously, knowing Tom’s temper. 

“Why were you alone?” Tom asks. Harry looks back up at him and quickly looks away.

“I just wanted to help... ”

Harry whispers, and he takes a peek at him and sees the minute tightening around Tom’s eyes.

“By putting yourself in danger?” Tom says in a gentle cadence that raises the hairs on Harry’s neck. “Have you forgotten what I taught you?”

Harry shakes his head.

“Then why? I asked you to stay put, that I'd just end the territorial feud in the next town, and had already warned you it was a feasting night for those with the mark."

Harry looked back at Tom again, this time guilty knowing he could’ve lost his life that night.

“I know that the minotaur Lord is in favor of my kind, I just wanted to make sure you could come back as soon as you can.”

“Even though you knew you cannot fly that far?”

Harry winced at Tom’s tone.

“I’m sorry.”

He hears Tom sigh, feels the small spike of magic in the air, and his arm was then enveloped in a cocoon of warmth. The purple lines fade for a small fraction, but doesn’t entirely disappear.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to get hurt. I only wanted--”

“I hope you didn’t mean to hurt me too, if I came back here and you were gone. The forest child gone for good.”

That shut Harry up, and heat prickled behind his eyes, fat tears pouring out. He knows Tom only wishes for him to understand the situation he had put himself in; he had almost willingly put himself on death’s door. But hitting straight to his heart was too much, for he knows how long Tom had stayed solitary in this corner of the world, just as he was isolated and merely interacted with because of his gift.

He doesn’t want to imagine living in a world devoid of Tom.

Harry moves and pushes his face into Tom’s chest, his arms coming around Tom’s torso. He lets out a sob, sees what Tom could see if the inevitable happened. 

“I’m really sorry, I--”

“Whatever attachment you had brought out from me, upon coming here Harry, has been inconvenient--” Tom whispers to him, one arm circling around his waist, the other carding through the back of his head, “--but never unwelcome.”

Harry holds on tighter, his _I’m sorry_ muffled on Tom’s robes.

“If you wish to go with me on my errands as a temporary forest God then you need to get stronger.”

Harry nods, his snot and tears already the acceptable fate of the Slytherin Lord’s robes.

**Author's Note:**

> This was also a response to, "the artists write fics, and writers make art challenge in the tomarry discord.


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